How you turned my world
by Fallyn Irlandes
Summary: Jareth muses on all the little signs he should have seen before he fell in love with Sarah.


_A/N: so...today is Valentine's Day, and the genre is romance, and the category is Labyrinth-honestly, I didn't cheat, it's the one I drew-and I tried to write something about Valentine evenings, only it ended up being more of a friendship piece, though I'm not sure how that happened. so I started this, and it doesn't exactly fit the romance category either, but I figure in Labyrinth fic we assume the romance has bits of angst in it anyway._

_So here's my first contribution to the Labyrinth fandom. Hello! You've sucked me in and you won't let go and I don't want you to. Here's to many more in the future. Also, Happy Valentine's Day._

* * *

He'd kind of like to strangle whatever idiot had gotten him into this mess, only that would be himself and he has more pride than that.

Honestly.

Who knew that a mortal could be so…

Fascinating?

He'd been intrigued with her belief, early on, and had given her gifts to ensure that she stayed connected to his world, even if she didn't realize it. He simply planned to use her belief in his world for the power it gave him.

Then she'd wished her brother away.

Oh, it had been _Christmas._

(only not, of course, since old Nick refuses to take his sleigh Underground)

He'd been so ecstatic about having a runner, a real runner, that he'd limited himself. He'd play by her rules, by that book that had somehow leaked through the generations. He'd be the villain…

(the black cape is fun and he likes it. Playing with the snake had been the best fun he'd had in a while.)

He had been the villain. He'd sent Hoggle—in true villain fashion he temporarily refuses to admit he knows the dwarf's name— to send her back to the start. He'd waylaid her in the tunnels, when it seemed the Labyrinth—and its citizens— was playing by Sarah's rules as well and the dwarf was betraying him. He'd taunted her. She'd shown bravado. Said what she thought the heroine would say.

He'll admit only to himself that he'd been more ticked off by her insult than he should have been.

That should have been a clue.

But he didn't notice.

Didn't notice, even as he threatened Hoggle—again— and he didn't notice as he failed to really make good on that threat. That should have been a screaming, blazing clue that something had changed, when he didn't actually follow through on Bogging someone.

But he'd ignored these signs, concentrating on the dream. It had to be perfect. It had to be exactly what she wanted. He wouldn't lose. This was it.

He should have paid attention to how much effort he put into it, when he simply could have knocked her unconscious for the hours needed for him to win.

But she shattered the dream. It didn't matter, she'd still forgotten, as she stood in the junkyard and hugged a teddy bear to her chest, but somehow it _did _matter because somehow, he'd started enjoying dancing with her.

He told himself it was because he was winning, and that must be the only positive emotion he could be feeling.

He held the baby, and he waited to win, and he ignored the part of him that insisted on feeling something like _regret _that she was wandering lost and without purpose.

He should have paid attention to his first decision. His own limitation.

He'd decided to play by her rules, remember?

In her rules, she was the hero, and she would overcome every obstacle.

In her rules, apparently, it was all right to enter his city and then demolish his army. He had to admit they weren't the best fighting force, but…

All they were doing now was slowing her down.

That would work.

Know the game. He could do this.

He set the stairways to confuse her and run down her time, and he waited for her to say goodbye to her three new friends. He felt like every breath he took was dependent on her, and he hated it. Who was she? How had this…

She entered his staircase, and he stalked her, furious and infuriatingly _helpless _to do anything other than sing words she ignored. He ignored them, at first, too, spitting them out in confused bits, and they became desperate pleas.

_I can't live within you._

He saw her, racing desperately for her brother, and he saw her unwilling to give up, and something in him said, _Of course not. My Sarah will never give up._

And that was roughly when he discovered that he'd fallen in love with her.

He'd kind of like to strangle himself for getting into this mess—as she jumped and as the Labyrinth recognized her claim on her brother and as he sent the baby home—but he fixes his clothes—white, color of non-villainy, surely she can see?—and he steps into her view.

He is the desperate one now. He is exhausted. He is tired. He is weary, and he knows he has lost, even before she begins to speak. It's in her eyes, her cruel eyes, and he should have known, because he knew her and he knew what her rules would be, and he still played by them.

How could he do anything less, for the girl who fascinated him?

He finds he still can't live within her, but now he can't live without her, as he watches her from the tree outside her window. He can't stand it, and he flies away, and he watches the world turn beneath him, and he finds it strangely and horribly ironic.

_How you turned my world, you precious thing._


End file.
